My first memories belong to the surreal landscape of childhood. Cushioned in tenderness, they flicker a blurred reel of mango trees, mud pies and mosquito screens.
Occasionally, through the fuzz, concrete moments come into focus. For me, the first of those is the imprint of a rainy afternoon in a library. Continue reading “The Heart is a Library Hunter”
When booking a hotel, everyone has a wish list.
Is there room service? Twenty-four-hour reception? A spa? All valid questions and indeed necessary to know.
However, no matter how fluffy the bathrobe or late the check-out, the one drawcard that never fails to entice the final digit of my CVC is a hotel with books.
Continue reading “Where the Bookish Bed Down: Accommodation for Bibliophiles”
by Brooke Hardwick
There are some cities that have only ever come to me in dreams. I am not talking about Paris or Prague. The cities that come to me are not real. They only exist in the garnet depths of night when I sleep.
Continue reading “What Dreams May Come: Unleashing Creativity”